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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24247570">Day One of Many</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomsAreMyFuel/pseuds/FandomsAreMyFuel'>FandomsAreMyFuel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Mystrade, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Johnlock - Freeform, Light Angst, M/M, One-Shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:00:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,073</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24247570</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomsAreMyFuel/pseuds/FandomsAreMyFuel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gone.</p><p>Sherlock has never felt such a bitter word in his mouth.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Day One of Many</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Day 1:</b>
</p><p>
  <em>Gone.</em>
</p><p>Sherlock has never felt such a bitter word in his mouth. 'Gone' was used in so many contexts and he had used it in so many different ways throughout the years, from insults to telling John where the culprit had run off to.</p><p>
  <b>Day 12: </b>
</p><p>
  <em>John.</em>
</p><p>Sherlock shivered, his fingers grazing the violin strings as he mentioned the name. No one's name ever brought so much pain to him, not even Mycroft, not even Donovan, nor Anderson. His eyes brought his line of sight to John's chair, his lungs betraying his cold, icy demeanor, and his breath was cut short. He glanced down, his white button-up reflecting in his pupils, he narrowed his eyes in an attempt to scold himself for feeling.</p><p>
  <b>Day 27: </b>
</p><p>
  <em>Feeling.</em>
</p><p>He never needed to feel, but here he was. A pathetic sigh came from his throat and he stood up, head facing a knocking sound that came from the door. His mind whirled, immediately recognizing Lestrade's knock.</p><p>"What do you want?" Sherlock called, he picked up the violin and placed it gingerly into the case, the second knock echoed.</p><p>"Sherlock!" The voice shouted from the other side of the door and Sherlock grumbled, pulling the door open. He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. Lestrade muttered a note of something along the lines of 'that was easier than expected.' Sherlock sent him a glare that could only mean so many things. "I know you want to mope, but I--" Lestrade stopped as Sherlock raised a palm.</p><p>"Where is he?" Sherlock said, the D.I. pointed to the direction of the park, his hand not faltering in certainty. Sherlock raced inside, not caring for his jacket, but rather he threw on his blue scarf, his fingers gripping the edges to his scarf, tying it. Sherlock had paused in his step as he got to the last step, Lestrade on the top step. "Thank you... Lestrade," Sherlock faced the street, "I suggest you tell my brother before it's too late." Sherlock said as he waved a taxi down, leaving Greg with an expression one could only describe as amusement and embarrassment.</p><p>Sherlock jumped off the cab and walked into the park, his fingers placed on the scarf, his eyes darting around the area. His eyes landed on the bench and on it, was a shorter man, a blonde with a black cane in his right hand. Sherlock stepped closer, it was definitely him. Sherlock saw John perk up and so he scrambled. His heart calling him a coward.</p><p>
  <b>Day 34: </b>
</p><p>Coward.</p><p>Sherlock never called himself a coward, his life was running around, chasing people with guns. However, Sherlock couldn't get himself to sit next to his best friend, his partner, his blogger, his idiot, his... his... Sherlock's eyes threatened tears and when something threatens one, not everyone is strong enough to pull away from the threat.</p><p>Sherlock sat on the same bench and he watched the birds that fluttered around with their beautiful wings. He hummed a song, one he would play on the violin, his pale lips formed a light 'v' shape as he leaned back, his coat draping the wood seat.</p><p>A figure sat next to him, the two sat in a comfortable silence, the only thing audible in the night was breathing of the two.</p><p>
  <b>Day 41:</b>
</p><p>
  <em>Silence.</em>
</p><p>Silence was something beautiful to Sherlock, he loved the quietness of John sitting across from him, the small taps of the keyboard and breathing is all that was said. Now, every week, the two partners sat in a silence that would wash over them and each would notice the slight twitch of the other's lip, a voice trying to escape their throat to form a painting that could be splattered in red or brushed with blue.</p><p>
  <b>Day 48:</b>
</p><p>
  <em>Blue.</em>
</p><p>John had always admired his scarf. Sherlock felt his hand reach for the scarf, just seeing John's eyes glancing at his delicate hand. How would Sherlock get John's hands on the same scarf, fingers brushing against each other? Sherlock looked to his left, his eyes barely meeting John's, but the two pulled away. Even without deducing anything, the detective could see Watson's eyes were almost a grey tint. Sherlock wanted to see the warm colors, the shine of livelihood in John's eyes, his John. What was he to do? Solve a problem.</p><p>
  <b>Day 55:</b>
</p><p>
  <em>Problem.</em>
</p><p>Sherlock had problems, like every other 'boring' human, but he truly wanted to solve this one. He sat down on the same bench as before. This time, Sherlock brought something with him, bravery.</p><p>"John," Sherlock said.</p><p>"Sherlock." A tired voice came from John's mouth. Silence washed over the two again and John crossed his arms.</p><p>"How it is... <em>with her</em>?" Sherlock's voice can with a monotone hint and grumble that came with each word he spat out. Every time he said her name or 'her' in that context, he would give a middle finger to the lady, she wasn't Mary, she wasn't someone who understood John, care for him, worry about him.</p><p>He saw John look at the ring before he saw something in John's grey eyes spill, a fiery color that entered his eyes and he saw John stand up, gripping the simple ring on his hand and chuck it into nearby bushes. John fell back into his seat, Sherlock watched the blonde's expression, looking for any micro-expression for regret, but all he saw in John's hue-filled eyes was something... the something that Holmes would see when John took out his gun, standing in front of Sherlock's tall figure, pointing it towards the culprit.</p><p>
  <b>Day 56:</b>
</p><p>
  <em>Culprit.</em>
</p><p>Sherlock was a culprit, a culprit of feeling emotions.</p><p>"John." Sherlock stood at the doorway of 221-B Baker Street, his hands at his side. John glanced down, his suitcase at the top step. Sherlock's expression didn't give John any room for his own kind of deducing, but he did know one thing. John threw his cane down and enveloped Sherlock in a hug, smiling as he felt Sherlock's arms wrap around him. His head tucking under Sherlock's chin.</p><p>"I'm sorry." John apologized and Sherlock took John's hand, seeing the faint outline of the ring he once wore. It all didn't matter, as he was here.</p><p>
  <b>Day 62: </b>
</p><p>
  <em>Here.</em>
</p><p>A word Sherlock would never forget, a word he would engrave into the walls of his mind palace.</p><p>A smile crept on Sherlock's face.</p><p>
  <em>Here.</em>
</p>
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